


Here is All We Have

by crimsonwinter



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Anal, Gay Sex, Incest, M/M, Plot What Plot, Porn Without Plot, Smut, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 12:08:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1744154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonwinter/pseuds/crimsonwinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaoru is a sentimental mess, going so far as to wonder the nature of he and Hikaru's relationship while his twin claims him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here is All We Have

**Author's Note:**

> for Cassie because she's a dingus

Watching Hikaru work with the customers is as terrifying as it is beautiful. He's like the moon putting up a sunny facade. He caresses a girl's slender jaw and gazes deep into her eyes, and before I can swallow my jealousy I find myself wondering if he's acting with me when we're not being cheered by them.

His ginger hair contrasts the sharp blue of his school uniform, and as he's draped now - loosely on a loveseat, I can't tear my eyes away from my position beside him. Most times I forget that I look like him. He's too surreal. And that voice - it coats everything in its path with a saccharine layer of sugar, but I know better.

I know what he thinks late at night. He rolls over to face me and speaks to me. 

Hikaru will usually say something like, "Kaoru, do you think that when we die we feel anything?"

And I don't know what to respond. I might mutter, "Go to sleep, Hikaru." But the plead in his amber eyes, the moonlight illuminating his thin shoulders from behind is too wonderful a sight to ignore, and I answer him. "I don't know. I don't think so. I think it's like being asleep."

"I hear it's like how we can't remember being born. It just doesn't exist for us. It doesn't exist."

"Why are you worrying about this, it's almost four in the morning."

"Because when it's late, I can't help but think it."

And he's right. Sleeping next to him, here, while not sleeping at all, causes us both to question everything. The fact that we're brothers and yet we've tumbled into something as infectious and terrifying as a sexual relationship, how we were virgins until that night when we were fourteen and curious. But that's not all with him. I need to protect him, tell him that he's not going to die in his sleep. I know he worries that he might.

But that was hours ago. Now he turns an eye at me as if he wants to put on a show. He sits up, his suit jacket crinkling at the waist, and pulls my face in with his hands. His hands… He's always so close to kissing me. He never does in front of them, but its like they're not there… Their squeals of delight about "forbidden brother love" are drowned out by the look he gives me. 

It's like there are oceans in my ears and blood is rushing to my cheeks. I mutter something silly, "Oh, Hikaru…" I think it was, but he knows that this means too much to me. He knows that he'll make it up to me tonight. Because he's mine and he owes me. This happy facade, this cocky show - it drops for me. I seem to be the one he reveals everything to, as much as Tamaki would like to believe that that's Haruhi.

I don't know what happened for the rest of the day, honestly. I probably said some snarky quip and harmonized with Hikaru, taunting Kyoya. I don't know. But it passed, and we ended up back home, in our room. Maybe the sun hasn't gone down yet, even. The curtains are drawn.

I try not to think about how one day we're going to need to split, become our own people, because all that matters in this moment is the fact that he's touching me.

He's touching me with his huge hands, the silky surface of his skin that's never been callused in his life. I just know he's touching me. He's sliding his forearms under my chest and lifting me up, angling me against the headboard of the bed. I think I'm supposed to grip the mahogany now, but I can't think. I'm drifting in and out of this reality.

Soft lips are pressing themselves to my neck and back and those same smooth fingers are finding and tracing the outlines of my bones. I'm cold, but everywhere that he touches me is warm. I prickle at the contact of the joint of his thumb brushingmy cock - I'd forgotten I'd even been hard. But now I remember. It's painfully hard and I'm bare. I'm bare but not exposed.

Hikaru teases me more with his lips and tongue on the taught skin over my neck, but that's all I feel. I try to command him to come closer, but I don't know what I've said. Fortunately, I feel the familiar warm expanse of his flat pelvis at the back of my rear. There's a gap where his groin should be, and at the hazy sound of a breathy moan, I know he's pulled it away from me and is touching himself.

He's touching himself, but not me. "Hikaru," I finally hear myself say.

At the turn of my head, he looms forward and captures my lips. They don't feel like lips. They feel like blushing rose petals, but they open for me and I find myself exploring the damp cavity like a glutton for punishment. 

Hikaru, like the sly dog he is, has distracted me with a melting kiss and has been applying a slippery liquid over my opening as he tugged at my bottom lip. Its oily and smooth, and it warms with the movement of his fingers.

It's not even arousal that I feel for him anymore, just safety. Just comfort. Familiarity. He pushes himself inside, one finger, then two - he's relentless and greedy and quick, but I'm happy just to be at his disposal. Soon I won't be, so I accept any form he wants to take me.

By this point, the pleasure catches up to me. His fingers do things to me that make me croak his name - a broken promise trapped in my throat. I finally find the use of the angle and headboard and grip it for support. Everything's hazy and pink and warm, but there's a sharp coldness right over my chest. I don't know what that is.

Hikaru pulls me from the brink and back seven times. He teases me until I'm almost a mess, nearly finishing on the pillow below my knees - but he stops me. He grips my left shoulder with his free hand, the other still menacing and unforgiving.

I'm always so aware of what part of himself he's touching me with. I always feel more blessed after, anyway.

And now I'm a shaky mess, and I think I'm drooling. I wish I could remember more when I'm with him, but he saps the energy to function out of me when he whispers in my ear, "Brother…" 

I respond with something that must have been a command, because soon the three fingers he'd been torturing me with have been painfully replaced with something rounder and hotter. 

I want to tell him to slow down, to revel in the moments such as this because we've only got so many left, but he doesn't agree. He wants to take me, hard, for reasons I still don't know.

He takes me now, and my chest is numb from hitting the edge of the headboard. My hands are flat on the wall above the bed, but they're not alone. Hikaru has moved closer and placed his palms flat over mine, using their balance to thrust into me.

I don't know what to focus on. Is it the coiling pleasure building in my abdomen? Is it the wide stretch to accommodate him? Is it the slight curl of his fingers around mine after the few minutes it takes for him to lose control?

I decide to focus on his breaths. They're raspy and irregular, but after listening for a few rounds, I realize he's grunting my name.

My name. Me. It's me. I'm the one that makes him like this. It's not him taking me, it's me taking him. It's me who drives deeper into his mind. It's me who's been beside him since birth. It's me who gets to hear my name from his lips when he's whispering it to me under our blanket, and it's me whose name I hear when he's coming so close. My name. My brother acknowledges that I do this to him as much as he does it to me.

And that's all I need. That belief, that sense of a promise, the promise that no matter how far apart we split, after orgasm and after romance - I'll still be the one that has that part of him. I'll be the name on his lips.

And it hits me: Hikaru is here, now, fucking me, hitting me in such a place that my mouth has gone dry from the time its spent hanging open. He's reducing me to a shaky puddle, and I can only think of... Love. 

It's waves, waves of pleasure and heady orgasm. So I finish, my bouncing body causing flecks of my release over our pillows and sheets. Hikaru, at this point, has taken my slender hips in his hands and held on for his life. He's ramming me to satiate his own hungry appetite, and he does, spilling inside me with a final word.

My name.

Because I'm his as much as he is mine - and every mirror from now until the day he sleeps forever will remind him of that.

 


End file.
